


A Heart like a Wildflower

by persephoneapple



Series: A Series of Nonsensical Events [42]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hope, Kissing, Language of Flowers, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25138543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneapple/pseuds/persephoneapple
Summary: For the past five minutes, Draco has felt Harry’s presence just outside his front door. When he peeks through the window, he sees Harry talking to himself, holding both of his hands behind his back.Several times Harry reaches out to knock, only to drop his hand at the last second.Perhaps, Draco hopes,Harry’s just as nervous about this date as I am.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: A Series of Nonsensical Events [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/133659
Comments: 6
Kudos: 188





	A Heart like a Wildflower

**Author's Note:**

> **A Heart like a Wildflower**  
>  **Harry/Draco, Neville [G, 2459 words]**  
>  **Disclaimer:** JK Rowling and co own everything and I am writing for fun and not for profit.  
>  **A/N:** After watching _Hamilton_ for the nth time, I remembered that I forgot to post this yesterday. Inspired by the quote: _Where flowers bloom, so does hope _\-- Lady Bird Johnson. Title taken from Nikita Gills’ poem "Hearts Like Wildflowers, Hearts Like Yours".__

“Neville, are you here? I need your help,” Harry says as he enters Greenhouse Three on the Hogwarts grounds. Immediately, he is pushed back outside, falling onto the grass as the glass door slams shut. Harry looks up at the bright blue sky in shock, wincing as he feels a sharp pain in his left ankle.

“Sorry about that, Harry!” Neville says, removing a pair of yellow earmuffs before holding out a hand to help Harry up. Dirt is caked underneath Neville’s fingernails and Harry almost slips again when he grabs the sweaty palm. 

“You know, a simple _Keep Out_ sign on the door would have sufficed if you can’t ward the greenhouse,” Harry says as he Vanishes the dirt. He puts pressure on his left foot and thankfully feels no pain.

“No, everyone would have just ignored it. I had a shipment of plants arrive today and I had to make sure the mandrakes were put away properly before they petrify someone. I had forgotten you were coming,” Neville says, smiling apologetically. “Your note was vague. Hopefully you’re not in trouble?”

“I’m an Auror, Neville. You know I can’t avoid trouble,” Harry says, grinning. “It’s just that you’re the only herbologist I know and I figured you’d know the language of flowers?”

Neville laughs. “What kind of herbologist would I be if I didn’t know that? Besides, it’s one of the things Grandmother insisted I learn when she saw how serious I was about Herbology. I never thought you would ask about floriography. Isn’t that a bit out of fashion?”

Harry’s face heats up as he avoids Neville’s gaze and rubs the back of his neck. “Well, tonight I have a date with someone whose family probably invented it and I want to impress them with a bouquet.”

There’s only a few families that statement would apply to and as far as Neville knows, Harry is not friends with anyone whose family is part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Instead of a barrage of questions that Harry expects from all of his other friends, Neville just snorts. “Never figured you’d date a posh person, but good for you, Harry.”

“Believe me, I was surprised, too,” Harry replies, glad that it’s a hot day and the heat in his cheeks can easily be explained away.

“You said you want to impress them, Harry?” Neville asks as they walk to Greenhouse Seven. “What do you want the roses to say?”

Harry clears his throat, inhaling deeply to steady his nerves. “Well, here’s the thing, Neville. He’s allergic to roses.”

“Oh,” Neville says, biting his lips. “That’s a shame. Roses would be easier to use on such short notice. I can put together a bouquet that tells a story, but if I can’t use roses, I’ll take that as a challenge. Tell me a little bit about him, if you don’t mind.”

Harry finally glances at Neville and sees that he’s genuinely interested in what Harry has to say and does not care that he has revealed that he’s going on a date with a man.

With that bit of encouragement, Harry feels a great weight lift off his shoulders and he finds the courage to say what he really thinks about his date. “He’s really brilliant! He brews potions and has his own business and occasionally consults with the Aurors. He’s snarky and unafraid to take me off the pedestal that everyone else has put me on. He’s very sarcastic, but that’s only because it’s his default defense mechanism, but once he lets his guard down, he’s loyal to a fault.”

“Do I know him?” Neville asks.

Harry pauses, trying to figure out how much he wants to reveal. “Yes and no. He went to Hogwarts, but he’s entirely different than when he was a kid. So I’m trying to make a good first impression because I think he thinks that he doesn’t deserve me. In fact, it took me seven tries to ask him out on a date before he agreed. But I want to date him because he treats me like I’m a normal person and not some hero in the history books. He’s someone I could imagine being married to one day.”

Neville’s eyes are wide by the time Harry has finished talking. “You sound like you’re pretty serious about him, Harry.”

Harry nods. “I am. I know it’s not love, not yet, but if I give it a little more time, it can be.”

“I’m happy for you, Harry,” Neville says, clapping him on the shoulders. “How did you find out he’s allergic to roses?”

“He was consulting on a case on Valentine’s Day and I was helping to finish a report. Someone had sent him roses and he Vanished them and then asked me to help sterilise his lab.” Harry smiles. “I think that was the first time I realised I had a bit of a crush.”

“It’s more than _a bit_. I’ve never heard you speak like that about someone.”

Harry nods. “It took me by surprise, but in a good way. So can you help me? I don’t want to use roses or, preferably, any flowers. I want it to be something different. Something he’ll definitely remember.”

Neville nods. “I have an idea. How about a nice cactus?”

Harry stares at Neville in shock. “What?”

“They are super easy to take care of, practically self-sufficient, and in a pinch you can eat them if you get hungry.”

“Neville, I’m not sure that’s the right plant,” Harry says delicately. He’s relieved when Neville bursts out laughing. 

“All right, so we can rule out a cactus. But how about this?” Neville says, explaining his idea.

By the end of it, Harry is grinning. “It sounds perfect!”

&&&

For the past five minutes, Draco has felt Harry’s magical signature just outside his front door. When he peeks through the window, he sees Harry talking to himself, holding both of his hands behind his back.

Several times, Harry reaches out to knock, only to drop his hand at the last second. 

_Perhaps he’s not the only one that’s nervous_ , Draco thinks and that lets hope bloom in his chest. 

Draco had thought Harry asking him out on a date was a joke. When it happened six more times, he had only said yes to fulfill that silly teenage fantasy he had at Hogwarts of going on a date with Harry Potter, even though in the back of his mind he truly believed that Harry wouldn’t show up.

After all, why would Harry date Draco when he had his choice of anyone in the world?

Whenever Harry had first started talking to him as they were finishing their cases, Draco had been surprised. Yes, they worked well together, but that didn’t mean they had to be social.

It didn’t take long for Draco to figure out that Harry was lonely now that his friends were married and starting families of their own. One Saturday morning, Harry had turned up outside his flat with Teddy to explore Muggle London, something that Harry had never done as a child. Draco had enjoyed the museums and was surprised at how much fun the football match was even with Teddy screaming in his ear. They had continued exploring London every Saturday and sometimes his Aunt Andromeda would join them, which reminded Draco that perhaps Harry only saw them as friends, or wanted Teddy to grow up with his family.

After all, as far as Draco knew, Harry had never told his friends or the Weasleys about what he did every Saturday.

But tonight is different. It’s just the two of them with a troubled past, but still, Harry is standing outside Draco’s front door and that has to count for something. 

Taking a deep breath, Draco straightens his back and quietly opens the front door.

Harry spins around and gives him the biggest smile anyone has ever directed at Draco since the war’s end. Draco’s breath catches and he can only stare at Harry as he heart beats rapidly, almost trying to escape his chest. He licks his dry lips and feels Harry’s gaze following the movement.

“Draco,” Harry says, “sorry I’m a bit early, but I couldn’t wait. Can I come in?”

Draco nods, stepping aside, not trusting his voice to remain steady if he were to talk. As Harry brushes past him into the living room, Draco smells the faint woodsy cologne that makes him weak in the knees. He’s pretty sure that if he were to brew Amortentia, Harry’s cologne would be one of the scents that would rise from the potion.

Inside the brightly lit living room, Draco takes a proper look at Harry. He’s dressed sharply, dark slacks and a white button down shirt. There are no scruffy trainers in sight, but rather polished black shoes that complement his belt. Harry’s hair is still wild and the curls that fall down in his face make Draco want to run his hands through them.

Harry’s bright green eyes blink nervously at him. “I know you’re allergic to roses and I didn’t know your favourite chocolates, but I hope you like these,” Harry says, holding out a bouquet.

Draco stumbles backwards in his haste to get away, plowing into the small coffee table. He cries out as a corner of the table sharply jabs the back of his knees, causing him to lose his balance. 

Harry’s eyes are wide and he scrambles to get his wand out of its holster. “Oh, Merlin! I’m so sorry, Draco. Are you hurt?” He moves forward, but stops when Draco shakes his head. 

“Please don’t come any closer. You need to get rid of the bouquet.”

“I know you’re allergic to roses, but the bouquet doesn’t contain any! There aren’t any flowers, either! I thought you still deserved a bouquet, so I had Neville wrap these up for you.”

Draco watches as Harry walks over and places the bouquet on the table, before crouching down next to him. A few flicks of Harry’s wand sends a localised numbing charm on the back of Draco’s knee and he feels no pain when he extends it.

“It’s a basic healing spell the Aurors are taught in case they get injured and can’t seek medical help right away. Did it work?” Harry asks, holding out his hand.

“Yes, thank you,” Draco says, grasping Harry’s hand. The jolt he feels as their hands touch has Draco quickly sitting down on the couch, only to quietly groan as Harry sits down next to him. He can’t ignore Harry, he’s too aware of him, but he does his best as he picks up the bouquet of wild-looking plants, turning it around. Twelve different plants with spiky green leaves, thorny stems, and an abundance of clashing fragrances are individually wrapped in colourful tissue paper and cellophane with a sprig of ivy wrapped around the stems and roots.

It’s perfect. 

“If you remember how terrible I was in potions, then you’ll know that I’m not that familiar with potions herbs and plants,” Harry says, laughing softly. “However, Neville recommended some useful ones and even left the roots attached so that you could grow your own at home, if you choose to. I know you recognise aconite, sage, yarrow, mint, thyme, feverfew, and well, dittany,” Harry says, pointing to each one as he names them. 

At the mention of dittany, Draco’s chest aches and he winces. Although it’s been a very long time since he has felt pain, he still dreams about that night in the bathroom. After all, that was one of worst consequences of all the bad choices he had made during his sixth year at Hogwarts.

Harry pulls the bouquet out of Draco’s hand and replaces it with his own, squeezing gently. Harry’s hands are warm, sun kissed and calloused, while Draco’s fingers are pale, bony and cold to the touch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you of that night. I know Professor Snape used dittany to help heal you. You’re bloody brilliant at potions and I wanted you to know that I’ve appreciated everything you’ve done since the war,” Harry says. He pauses and then tilts Draco’s chin up so that they can look at each other. “I like you a lot, Draco. I hope I haven’t gotten this all wrong and that you feel the same way?”

Draco closes his eyes when he hears the question. He can’t bear to look at Harry because then he would immediately blurt out that yes, he feels the same, has done for years. Draco can’t admit to Harry that he can’t quite believe that they have become friends, even if they haven’t told anyone yet. Being friends has to be enough; Draco can’t hope for the impossible because the rejection would hurt far more than the pain of being branded with the Dark Mark.

“How--” Draco begins, taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts, “how do you go from hating me at Hogwarts, as you rightfully should, to inviting me to spend time with your family, to repeatedly asking me on a date? And then when I finally say yes, you show up with something so thoughtful and _sweet_? I don’t understand why--”

Draco doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Harry’s lips are on his, kissing him as if his life depended on it. Draco eagerly returns the kiss, finding that he doesn’t actually mind Harry’s chapped lips, or the delicious burn of Harry’s stubble against his skin as he kisses his way to Draco’s ear.

“I really do like you, Draco,” Harry repeats. “Why don’t you believe me?”

When Draco takes too long to answer, Harry pulls away for a second only to press the bouquet into Draco’s hands. “As Neville was putting together the bouquet, he asked about you-- well about my date. I know I talked his ear off, but I trust him not to tell anyone until we are ready, but he was glad that I was-- _am_ \-- happy and only suggested that I add the ivy to wrap it around the other plants. He said that the ivy describes how I feel for you and that you would know what it means.”

Draco traces the ivy’s thin stem, remembering how, as a young child, he would walk with his mother around her garden as she pointed out the different flowers and their meanings. If he remembers correctly, ivy symbolises friendship, affection, wedded love, and fidelity.

He already has Harry’s friendship, and, if he’s telling the truth, his affection. Hopefully the other two meanings will come true with time.

“So do you feel the same way?” Harry nervously asks.

“I do,” Draco says simply.


End file.
